


Distractions

by Vrunka



Series: The Moon and the Ocean [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Robot handjobs, mention of McHanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8521489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: The moon is full and Hanzo and McCree have been gone for five days. The moon is full. And Genji is scared.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Chocari asked what was Genji thinking the night Hanzo was missing. So here it is.

They have been gone too long.

Genji places his hands on his knees. Folds them across his lap. Laces his fingers. Lays them flat. Back to his knees. Back to his lap.

Zenyatta is watching him. He doesn't need to see the omnic to know it. Zenyatta doesn't need eyes to stare.

Genji swallows. He misses the mask, has long since taken to not wearing it while meditating.

They have been gone too long.

"Something is troubling you, my student," Zenyatta says. Genji's hands continue their rotation. Fingers folded against one another, the sensors in his fingertips sensitive and sharp. He unfolds them, places them on his knees.

"They...that is," Genji licks his lips. Opens his eyes. Zenyatta's head is tilted in his direction. Watching him. "Hanzo and McCree...they have been gone too long."

It always manages to surprise Genji, how expressive Zenyatta is. Quite the feat for an omnic with no facial movement. Zenyatta taps his fingers together, mimicking Genji's motions. "And it worries you?"

"Of course it does, Master."

Genji had not agreed to them going in the first place. Had argued it with both Angela and Winston. Had been shot down on both counts. Orders. From the higher ups.

Nothing to be done about it.

Same shit reasons that had driven Genji to leave the first time. The bureaucracy of it all.

Hanzo too, had complained.

But McCree had wanted to go.

And Hanzo.

Hanzo is so very weak to McCree's wishes.

Genji rolls his head, pleasant little stretch of the nodes in his neck. His synthetic skin itches, when he thinks about it too hard. Even now, after all this time. He rubs his palms against his thighs. Stressful, worried little twitches.

"Are you worried about McCree?" Zenyatta asks. "Or about Hanzo?"

The answer cannot be both. Genji already knows this. He folds his hands across his lap, holds his own wrists, willing the excessive motion to stop.

"Both," he says, because he wants it to be true. "They have been gone far longer than anticipated. They could be hurt, dead. They--"

"Are capable men." Zenyatta makes a clicking sound, whirring. Like a person would cluck a tongue. Tutting. "Why are you really worried?"

Genji sighs. "The moon. You've seen how he gets." He glances sidelong at Zenyatta. Zenyatta's calm. His peaceful radiance. "It doesn't worry you?"

"I do not fear the universe's design."

They have discussed this before. In varying degrees. On and off for almost eight months now.

An easy pattern to track.

Genji's worries, Genji's troubled thoughts since those seven months ago when Hanzo came to breakfast with bruises on his neck.

Bruises on his wrists.

Smug and willful and stupid. Courting danger.

"I am worried about Hanzo. I am scared for him."

It always comes down to that.

This is old territory for the two of them.

Zenyatta makes another sound. Would be a sigh of Zenyatta had lungs. An exasperated outlet of air. As it is, it's more like a rush of static. Buzzing little annoyance.

"To fear what we cannot control--"

"Is to embrace discord in our hearts," Genji says, looking down. "I know, Master."

"But you do not believe me."

It could be a question.

But it isn't.

Genji's fingers dig against his wrists. Deep, phantom itches. Nervous ticks.

"I am afraid he will turn him."

"Would it be so bad?"

Genji looks at Zenyatta sharply. "Of course."

"You fear it more than your brother's death?"

Genji bites his lip. Hanzo's death. McCree's. Either possibility feels like a sinking in his stomach. White-hot regret.

"Is living as a monster really living?" he asks.

"Can balance and harmony be found even in a soul as ragged and worn as McCree's? Did you not ask this same question of yourself once? Or of your brother?"

Genji looks away.

"Would you deny them the harmony they have found in one another? Keep it from them? Usurp it?"

Genji loves Hanzo, despite their past. How could he not? He loves McCree. A replacement for a sibling he could not have all those years ago during Overwatch's good old glory days. McCree had been this thing he is, even then. And Genji had loved him despite it.

Genji's jealousy. Vague and shifting but there all the same.

Usurp it.

Break them.

Under the guise of protection.

Genji clenches his fingers.

"I cannot choose between brothers. I cannot answer that question."

Zenyatta chuckles. His hand presses against Genji's shoulder. "You already have."

Genji feels so much, each point and segmented section of Zenyatta's hand. The expanse of his palm, cool and metal on Genji's plating. His replacement pieces.

Genji digs his fingers in harder.

Zenyatta's orbs, the floating, flickering light of them. Soft and blue.

It is a full moon tonight.

They have not heard from Hanzo or McCree in two days.

"I am still scared, Master."

"Feeling scared is not the issue, Genji."

"I know."

"Will you let it control you?"

"No, Master."

Zenyatta settles on the floor next to him. Light like a feather. Knees brushing Genji's. "Then perhaps, for the night, we are done with meditation."

Genji bites his lip.

Normally this is where they would part. Lately though, Genji has been lingering. Dallying.

Zenyatta does not appear to notice his student's delays. Or, if he notices, does nothing to indicate such.

Genji takes a breath.

He wishes again for his mask, though at times it almost seems as if Zenyatta can see through its reflective surface. Can read Genji's thoughts and moods and concerns from Genji's voice alone.

"You are worrying still?" Zenyatta asks.

"Just thinking."

"You think too much," Zenyatta chides. Filtered voice just slightly higher than usual. Teasing. The way his head is cocked too, the equivalent of a smile.

Genji grins back, playing along. Better at this game when he has someone to lead. "Perhaps you should distract me then, give me something to take my mind off my troubles."

He says it offhandedly.

It is supposed to be a joke.

Something to lighten the mood.

Zenyatta stills.

Genji can practically see the circuits in his head. Pieces clicking together. A topic danced around between the two of them. Dangling just beyond reach.

"Would you like that?"

Genji lingering. Hyper-sensitive where Zenyatta touches him. Zenyatta's hand resting on his knee. Drawing up, to touch the webbed synthetic skin of his thigh. Tips of Zenyatta's fingers brushing the back of Genji's hand.

The synthetic skin nearly humming at the contact. Crackling, manufactured heat.

How long Genji has wanted this.

Something forbidden and sacred.

Something hardly admitted, even to himself.

Genji licks his lips. "I don't--"

"Look at me, Genji."

He does. How could he not? Zenyatta's fingers twitch against him. He lets out another series of sounds, a sigh, at whatever emotion he sees on Genji's face.

Too raw.

Genji has never been good at the stoic act. He is not Hanzo. Genji bites his lip again. The tough, scarred skin between his teeth.

Everything organic left to him is like that.

Broken and scarred. Worn thin.

"I would like that, Master," he says.

Zenyatta twitches again. Buzzing, clicking, electrical sounds from his joints. Some sort of short circuit. Zenyatta hums. Vocal chords vibrating in his throat. Genji can see them.

"Do not call me that," Zenyatta says. "Not like this."

"Like what?"

Zenyatta grips his hand more fully. Fingers brushing, curling, bumping. Sensory node to sensory node. Zenyatta presses their hands down, against the triangular codpiece at the apex of Genji's thighs.

"Coy does not suit you, Genji. Destiny awaits those who take what they desire."

Genji leans into the space between them. Shortens it. Obliterates it.

Zenyatta's faceplate is cool, inches from his lips. Silver and unmoving.

But Genji can tell that Zenyatta is watching him. Waiting on him.

Kissing an omnic with no real discernible mouth is...different. Strange. Genji presses his lips, closed-mouthed and chaste against the seam of Zenyatta's face. Where silver meets gold.

He raises his free hand to Zenyatta's neck bracings. Holds onto the thick cut of the joint there.

The metal is cool beneath his lips. But Zenyatta is pressing back against him, making encouraging little sounds; graceful, swooping notes. His orbs, orbiting around them still, soft and blue, echo each tone.

Genji opens his mouth.

Metal fogging with his breath. Under his tongue.

He climbs into Zenyatta's lap, arms more fully around Zenyatta's neck. Zenyatta's hands braced on his hips, following the cut of his plating.

Zenyatta touches the running lights on Genji's stomach, traces his fingers around each node. Pressing against them. More electric-like jolts of pleasure.

Strange.

Foreign.

Genji has experimented with his body since he's had it--has existed as a cyborg for far too long to have not tried coaxing pleasure from the different bundled sensors.

But this is better.

Perhaps because Zenyatta understands the subtleties of synthetic pleasure. Knows where to press and where to twist and where to smooth his hand flat and full.

Genji groans. The exhale painted in a puff on the chrome of Zenyatta's face.

Something Genji never would have thought to consider hot.

"Are you feeling good, my Genji?"

Genji nods, ruts against Zenyatta's palm where it rests once more against his latched codpiece. The sound that escapes his throat when Zenyatta slips his fingers under that panel is nothing short of a whine. Undignified. Trilling.

"Master--"

"Zenyatta."

Genji swallows. Zenyatta's fingers have stilled. "Zen...yatta. I..." He bows his head, closes his eyes. Forehead to forehead with his master. "It feels weird to call you that."

Zenyatta squeezes his hand on Genji's neck; palm against the soft front, sensor nodes on his fingers thrumming against Genji's throat. Where his pulse still is. Beating frantically under the carapace bracings. Genji wonders if Zenyatta can feel it.

"I want to hear you call my name, when you find your pleasure," Zenyatta says. His deep voice, calm and soothing and sure, was not made to say such lewd things. "It is always that way, when I imagine it."

Genji shivers, eyes fluttering open. "You have thought of this?"

Zenyatta chuckles. This close, his chrome reflects Genji's sensor lights. Green and blue, reflecting, refracting. Like being underwater. "You are not the only one prone to distraction during meditation." Zenyatta's fingers undo the last clip on Genji's codpiece. It slides away with a mechanical hiss.

Genji echoes the sound. Breathe between his teeth, leaving him in a whistle. Harsh, panted exhales from his nose.

Zenyatta touches his cock. Gently. Nearly reverent. Metal fingers against the skin. Organic, human skin.

Less scars here. One around the crown like circumcision. A scattered few across his testicles, numb little patches.

Maybe it makes him more sensitive. This one place on him still fully alive. It's a less embarrassing explanation for the way he thrusts shamelessly against Zenyatta's questing fingers.

The noises, vulnerable little grunts, that have Genji blushing even as he makes them.

"Zenyatta!" He curls inward, rubs his hand down Zenyatta's chest the way Zenyatta had on him. The teasing touches, light, maddening pressure on his dick has him bucking. "Please, just--touch me Zenyatta. I am not breakable."

"I would never think such a thing. As you wish, Genji."

Zenyatta wraps his hand fully around Genji's dick. The sensor node on his palm rough against the too-sensitive skin. The metal cool. Zenyatta still keeps his grip loose, stroking, easy. Genji keens.

Already leaking.

Genji looks down at himself. Zenyatta's chrome against the more matte plating on Genji's stomach. Teal in the light. The head of his cock, pink and glistening, disappearing into Zenyatta's fist. Pushing back through. Genji flexes his hips, groans low in his throat.

Another drop of precome oozes at the slit, slides down, smears beneath Zenyatta's hand.

Making the metal gleam.

Genji rips his gaze away. Closing his eyes tight. Pressing blindly toward Zenyatta's face. He kisses the expanse of gold, follows it up to the ear node. Tonguing around the joint.

Zenyatta sighs, a comforting rush of static.

"Feels so good," Genji whispers, voice thick and harsh. Far too long since he has felt this sort of base pleasure. His playboy youth spent far behind him. Genji palms at the segmented expanse of Zenyatta's waist. "Do you feel good too, Zenyatta? Can I make you feel even better?" He tugs at the low-slung hug of Zenyatta's pants. Fingers following the pistons of Zenyatta's hips.

Zenyatta stills him with his free hand. Gentle pressure on Genji's wrist. "Perhaps next time, my Genji. My dear, Genji. For now, just know that pleasuring you is doing more for me than you can know."

Genji wants to whine. Complain. Would have if he were still the same cyborg Zenyatta had taken under his wing those years ago.

But he's learned, under Zenyatta's tutelage. He's grown.

And some things are worth the wait.

"What shall I do then?" Genji asks, husky. Rolling his hips when Zenyatta thumbs against his balls. Grunting at the blunt stimulation.

"Enjoy yourself. Hang onto me." Zenyatta tips his head. "The kisses are nice. You are softer than I had imagined."

Genji moves his hands, grips the knobs of Zenyatta's shoulders. Zenyatta's free hand joins the first. Stroking up Genji's cock. Genji spreads his knees wider over Zenyatta's lap. Full access.

Synthetic skin humming with pleasure. Thighs vibrating slightly with it. Electric, jumping pulses.

Zenyatta's fingers are thrumming, sensors and segments alive with his pleasure. Genji pushes his cock into the grip of them, fucks into the tunnel Zenyatta makes.

He groans, teeth clacking against Zenyatta's faceplate. Desperate, mewling. He writhes in Zenyatta's hands.

Close.

The grips that line his palms keeps him steady on Zenyatta's shoulders. A small miracle. Genji's organic skin is sweating, his forehead beaded with it.

"I'm...Mast--Zenyatta. I'm so--" Genji bites the words off with a keen.

Zenyatta moves his fingers to press against Genji's slit. The minute vibrations of Zenyatta's pulse almost too much at the sensitive head. Rubbing against his opening. The font of precome thicker now. Zenyatta slips just the tip of his finger into the slick, hooks the first joint to slip into the urethra.

Genji's mouth opens.

No sound comes out.

He can't breath or talk or whine.

Everything locked up in him.

That pinpoint of existence, Zenyatta's fingertip breaching him in that intimate way.

Genji inhales, suddenly, full bodied. Shuddering.

And he comes.

Overstimulated.

Hips rutting up and up and up through each wave of pleasure.

By his ear, Zenyatta groans. Voice over-laced with static. Genji's name. Over and over.

"Zenyatta," Genji murmurs back. Still thrusting weakly. Zenyatta's hands milking the last of it from him. Coaxing the last, languid dribble out of his spent cock. Genji stills.

Zenyatta does not remove his hands.

Comforting, in a way. Reassuring.

Genji breathes. Closes his eyes.

"Are you okay, Genji."

"I am fine," he says. Turning to rest forehead to forehead with Zenyatta.

"No more thinking," Zenyatta teases.

Genji smiles. Raises his hand to swipe his thumb against Zenyatta's face. Following the seam by Zenyatta's ear nodes.

"No more thinking."

"Would you stay here tonight?"

Genji nods.

He can't imagine returning to his own dorm right now. The moon shining through the window begs to distract him from the peace Zenyatta has given him.

Alone, he would not be able to resist the siren call of it.

The worry.

The grief.

Genji sighs.

"Do you have a cot, Master?"

Zenyatta does not chide the use of the title this time. He nods. "And in the morning," Zenyatta says, wise and kind and beyond his years, "we will talk to Winston. Even if we must go alone, we will look for your brother. Agreed?"

Genji blinks, tilts back in Zenyatta's lap to study Zenyatta's face.

Unmoving, unreadable metal. But Genji knows him well enough to know the signs of a smile.

"Agreed, Master. Thank you."

"No need for thanks. Let us get cleaned up. You have made quite a mess of my pants."

Genji glances down. The streaks of his release, painted down Zenyatta's waist. Telling stripes across Zenyatta's sash.

"I have made a mess?" Genji stresses. "I tried to strip you, and you refused. I don't know how you can hold me accountable for this, Master."

Zenyatta chuckles as Genji stands.

He feels less boneless than he expects. Synthetic muscles bouncing back quicker from such a shattering orgasm. Not a bad thing though. He grips Zenyatta's wrist, helps the omnic to his feet.

"Passing the blame is hardly fair. I would expect more from you, my student," Zenyatta teases. He touches the back of Genji's hand. Small contact.

Reassurances.

Outside, the moon in her throne. Her velvet sea of stars. Unimpeded, unaffected. Genji doesn't look.

He isn't even tempted.

**Author's Note:**

> I had never written robot sex...
> 
> And now I have. Or somethin lol! I do always welcome prompts so feel free to inbox or message my tumblr (@vrunkas) cuz I welcome the practice.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! And wasn't a complete waste of anyone's time.
> 
> Anyway, comments questions kudos complaints, just let me know :)


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